


Camp Takanoka- Hunger Games AU

by mountainofschist



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Camp Takanoka, F/F, Original Characters - Freeform, this is an au for the novel I'm writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountainofschist/pseuds/mountainofschist
Summary: Sloane is 18 years old. She just has to make it through one more reaping before she's home free. She will never have to worry about being reaped again. She'll still have to worry about her best friend, Mitch. Who's a year younger than her. There's no way she'd ever be reaped the same year as Mitch, right? That's basically impossible. Well it'd be impossible if her family's luck wasn't more rotten than a dead squirrel.
Relationships: Sloane McLeaud & Mitch Maeson, Sloane McLeaud/Annabeth Martinez





	Camp Takanoka- Hunger Games AU

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU for the novel I'm working on called Camp Takanoka. I've tweaked the character's backstories to fit into this world, but what happens in this is surprisingly similar to what happens in my book.

I smile as I wake up to the comforting warmth of my mother sleeping next to me. I carefully edge my way out of our bed and get dressed before quietly slipping out of our home. I shove my hands in the pockets of my beat up leather jacket and head off for the bakery. I had dropped off a squirrel yesterday with the baker’s promise of a fresh loaf of bread in the morning. The baker, Zeke Ripp, always gives me the best deals when it comes to trading and I’d like to think it’s because I catch the best game, but it’s probably because he grew up with my mom and her siblings and watched the McLeaud’s fall from grace. 

My grandfather, Arthur McLeaud, used to be the mayor of District 12 and the town really loved him. He still holds the record for most years in office, and part of me has to wonder if he really earned all of those years. Because the thing that finally drove him out of the office was the public discovering that he rigged the reaping for the 54th Hunger Games. My grandfather was not a kind man and he hated the fact that my mother, Cassidy, broke her back when she was a kid. He felt that having a child in a wheelchair stained his good name and certainly the best way to get rid of a stain is to wash it out with an honorable death in the Hunger Games. So when my mom was 15 he rigged the reaping so that she was the one selected. There was only one problem, my Aunt Melissa loved my mother more than life itself and when my mom’s name was pulled she volunteered as tribute before my mom could even make it to the stage. When my mom was 18 my Uncle Daniel discovered my grandfather’s plot and leaked it to the District. My mom and uncle ended up having to move to the Seam, because my uncle couldn’t exactly work for the mayor anymore and a teacher’s salary couldn’t buy a house in the nicer part of the district. My mom had me the next year and just like that my uncle had to start working in the mines so that all three of us could eat. So in a year, they went from living the best life possible in the district to being just another single mother and coal miner. 

The baker could also be nice to me because he was sweet on my aunt when they were kids. Honestly, I couldn’t care less, all that matters to me is that he keeps on giving me good deals.

I knock on the back door to his shop and smile as kindly as possible when he opens the door. He smiles back and hands me a bundle that’s about twice the size I’m expecting. “This is way more than that squirrel was worth, Mr. Ripp.” 

He nodds, his smile faltering for a moment. “I know. But it’s your last reaping day so I figured I’d throw in something to celebrate the occasion.” I start to protest and he holds up a hand to stop me, “If you really feel the need to, you can bring a squirrel by tomorrow. But then I’ll have to trade that squirrel for a third loaf, because that second one is a  _ gift _ , Sloane.”

The simple gesture sends a warm feeling blooming through my chest, “Thank you, Mr. Ripp.”

By the time I make it back to the house my mom is already awake and heating up a pot of water on the fire. “Good morning, honey!” She calls over her shoulder as I strip off my slightly muddy boots.

“Mornin’ Momma.” I murmur before kissing her forehead.

She carefully pulls the pot from the fire and brews a small cup of coffee for both of us. While she’s doing that I triumphantly set the bread down on the table between us. I laugh as her eyes go impossibly wide. “How many squirrels did you give Zeke?”

“Just one.” I say with a wide smile. “He says the extra loaf is a gift since today is my last reaping.”

My mother unties the cloth and takes a deep breath of bread scented air. “God I love bread.” 

We can really only afford to get fresh bread once a month, it’s always my mom’s favorite time of month. 

I can’t help but smile into my mug of weak coffee as my mom slices into the bread. “Save some for breakfast!” 

She smiles at me, making sure to have some of the chewed bread visible through her teeth. “Don’t worry, we have plenty.”

An outsider might think we do our day backwards. My family has an extravagant breakfast and a meager dinner, while the rest of the district has a meager breakfast and goes all out for dinner. My family used to do it that way, until one year they weren’t celebrating after the reaping. Since then my mom and uncle have celebrated over breakfast because it was the last meal they had with their sister.

I must be making a face because my mom reaches over the table and takes my hand in hers, rubbing reassuring circles into the back of my hand with her thumb. “It’s gonna be okay, honey. You’ve made it six years without being reaped, you can make it one more.”

I squeeze her hand back. Her optimism is nice, but it doesn’t ease the weight in my heart. “I know. I just have a bad feeling about today.” I can tell by the look on my mother’s face that she has the same feeling. I take another sip of coffee to drive away that feeling. “Where did you get the coffee this year? It’s especially shitty.”

That breaks the anxious mask on my mom’s face and she laughs before taking her first sip. “Oh god. You’re right.” She swirls it around in her mug before taking another sip. “I bought it from the Hob. My normal dealer didn’t have any so I had to find a new one. Looks like I won’t be going back to them.”

I snorted lightly into my mug. “You make it sound like drugs, not coffee.”

She shrugged. “We should treat it like drugs. We only get coffee once a year. Shouldn’t it be the best possible.”

I take another sip, “Do we have any goat milk left?”

“No,” She sighs. “I had to trade it for the coffee.”

We finish our breakfast in an easy peace that quickly leaves us as the morning goes along. 

I eventually have to stop grazing on bread and get ready for the reaping. I pull my wavy, shoulder length black hair into an elegant half-braid and put on my light blue dress shirt and gray slacks. They used to belong to my uncle, but my mom was able to tailor them to my size. Which was a feat since he was almost six feet tall and I’m just over 5’2. I put on the scuffed up pair of black dress shoes that I traded two weeks worth of game for. I made sure my mom never felt the hit and even lied about how I got them, saying that they used to belong to my best friend.

My mom smoothed out my collar after I finished buttoning my shirt. “You’re only missing one thing.” She says as she pulls out a small bundle wrapped in butcher’s paper. She hands it to me with a nervous smile. “Go ahead. Open it.”

I excitedly open the gift. We haven't been able to afford gifts since my uncle died when I was 10 and now I’ve gotten two in the same day. The warm feeling in my chest from earlier comes back tenfold as I pull my uncle’s favorite tie out of the paper. I turn to the beat up mirror leaning against our wall and tie it. My mom motions for me to kneel in front of her and she straightens it, smoothing out my collar again. She gently kisses the top of my head before I stand and I’m overcome with the urge to run. Like maybe if I just take off into the wilderness nothing bad will happen. It’s a foolish thought that will only end up bringing pain to everyone around me so I shove it back out of my head with the same speed as it appeared. My mom herds me out of the house and we begin our annual walk to the town square. 

A tall boy with suntanned skin, unruly brown hair and warm, chocolate brown eyes is waiting for us as we walk into the square. A crooked smile stretches over his face as he notices us and he excitedly jogs over. Kissing the top of my mom’s head before pulling me into a crushing hug. I lightly jab my fingers into his ribs, right where I know he’s the most ticklish and he shoves me away with a laughter filled shout. 

“That was a cheap shot!” He quickly pulls me into a head lock and rests his knuckles against the crown of my head, threatening a knougie.

I grab his wrist and squeeze. “Mitchell Tyler Maeson. If you mess up my hair, I swear to god you’ll die even if you aren’t reaped.”

He carefully lets go of me and holds up his hands in surrender. “I know better than to push you when you use my middle name.” The borderline jovial energy of our banter is sapped away as a little girl who looks to be no older than 12 starts wailing for her parents after they leave her with a cluster of other girls her age. 

I glance back to my mom and give her a tight hug. “I love you.”

My mom squeezes me back, “I love you too. Just remember that no matter what happens today, everything will be fine.”

Mitch’s dad wheels my mom over to where I can see Mrs. Maeson waiting at the front of the audience. I give her a small wave and turn back to Mitch. “Are you ready?”

He sucks in a deep and heavy breath. “No. But there’s no stopping it, so I might as well embrace the terror.”

I fiddle with the buttons on my sleeve cuffs as we walk. “Our deal is still good, right?” 

Mitch draws me into a tight side hug and I lean into the solid muscle. “Of course. We take care of the other’s family if one of us gets reaped. We’re family. Through and through.” He pauses for a moment. “How many times is your name in?”

“21.” I murmur quietly and I can feel Mitch’s body stiffen at the answer. 21 of those thousands of slips had my name delicately scrawled across their fronts. It wasn’t as many as others, I was fortunate enough to only have to worry about my mom and I. Some kids have to get out six or more tesserae a year. Then there’s the kids like Mitch, who are just fortunate enough to not have to take out tesserae. He’s 17 this year so his name is only in six times. But if I’m reaped he won’t be able to go his final year without a tesserae. Although if I’m not around my mom might be able to survive on her teacher’s salary.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Mitch presses a final kiss to my temple before walking off to join the other boys his age. I weave my way into the throng of older girls. I give the girl next to me a half hearted smile and turn to the front as the mayor officially starts the reaping.

I tune out for the beginning. It’s always the same boring speech about how the world ended and Panem rose from the ashes of society. He eventually calls out the only living victor from District 12. Elizabeth McCall is a tall and wiry woman with graying brown hair that she keeps in a tight bun. Somehow she finds my eyes in the crowd and gives me a reassuring smile as she waves to the camera. She’s managed to find my face every year and part of me thinks it's because I look identical to my aunt, who was the first tribute she trained after winning the 53rd Hunger Games. It could also be because I’m the only person in our district with green eyes that shine like freshly polished emeralds. But it’s most likely because she’s been secretly training me since I was 8. My uncle was reasonably paranoid about me being reaped so he started paying Elizabeth to train me. After he died she kept it up for the price of some fresh game here and there. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter because District 12’s escort, Harlanne Underbough, begins cheerily walking over to the glass ball holding the girls' names. 

Harlanne makes a show of swirling the strips around in the ball before plucking one and walking back over to the microphone. She carefully unfolds the paper and reads the name.

“Sloane McLeaud!”

I stumble for a second as I stare at Harlanne. There’s no way she said my name, right? Today’s my last reaping. I was so close. I steal a look towards Mitch and I can tell by the way the blood has drained from his face that I heard right. 

I’m going to the Hunger Games.

I force myself to take one step after the other. The last thing I want is for it to look like I’m protesting. Before I know it I’m standing next to Harlanne and she’s giving me a stiff and awkward side hug. She smells sweet, like strawberries. The smell matches her vibrant red and pink clothes that clashes with the lifeless grays and blacks of District 12. Harlanne gives me another squeeze for good measure before pulling away.

Now that I’m up close, I can see how fake Harlanne’s excitement is. Her body and face are animated but her eyes are as dead as I’m gonna be in a few weeks.

The crowd doesn’t applaud when Harlanne calls for it. There’s always a few who protest with silence, but it’s never the whole crowd. That’s when I notice the cameras switch to Elizabeth, who has stood from her seat next to the mayor. She silently touches the three middle fingers of her left hand to her lips and then holds it out to me. It’s an unexpected and bold sign of support towards me and anger towards the Capitol. I look back out to the crowd to find them copying the salute. I swallow the lump in my throat and straighten my shoulders. I can’t afford to break right now.

Harlanne quickly recovers from the unprecedented display and prances over to the boy’s ball, doing the same grandiose display and pulls the second name before walking back over to me. She cheerfully reads the name of the person I would possibly have to kill in a matter of days and once again I’m questioning my hearing.

“Mitchell Maeson!”

The universe hates me. It has to, right? What are the chances of me being reaped the same year as the person who’s my soulmate? I became friends with Mitch when we were five. His family lived next to us, but his older brother scared me so I never went near their house. Nothing changed after we started school. All the kids steered away from me because of what their parents had told them about my family’s history. Nobody liked the poor McLeaud bastard with eyes that don’t belong in District 12. I was walking home from school one day when I saw the resident bully, Jason Sutton, trying to shove some scrawny kid’s head into the pig’s food trough outside of the bakery. The kid was barely holding his own. Then his terrified eyes met mine and before I could even comprehend what I was doing, I was sprinting across the street and pulling Jason off of Mitch. At that time, I was bigger and stronger than most of the boys in the district, so I easily shoved Jason’s face into the trough instead. The memory of Jason sends another spike of pain through my heart. He never quite stopped being a dick, until he was reaped when we were 14. I decided to go visit him, despite Mitch’s protests. He was the first person that I actually knew to be reaped. In that room I didn’t see the burly bully that had terrorized me for the last nine years. I saw a terrified kid who didn’t want to die. He apologized to me and practically begged me to pass it on to Mitch. I told him that I forgave him, even though I didn’t. It seemed to ease his terror and he died the next week during the bloodbath. 

I was snapped back to the present as Mitch held out his hand for me to shake. I took it and dipped my head when he gave my hand three squeezes. That was Mitch’s way of telling me things will be alright. Whenever things get to be too much he plants a calming hand on me and gives me three squeezes.

Things will be alright. They have to be.

Harlanne starts applauding for him and the crowd is silent once again. 

The mayor is up, moving Harlanne out of the way, and reading the Treaty of Treason before our district can put on another display of dissent. I notice that even though the mayor is speaking the cameras are focused on Mitch and I. I also realize that I’ve started holding Mitch’s hand. I loosen my grip a little to signal that he can let go if he wants. But Mitch just tightens his grip. We are each other's lifeboats in our joint sea of misery.

Mitch and I are eventually pulled apart when Peacekeepers lead us to our respective rooms within the Justice Building. The room I’m shoved into is lush and at first I’m hesitant to touch anything in the fear of getting coal dust on the velvet couch. I resign to pacing in front of the couch just before the first person is let into my room. I let out my first sob when my mother rolls through the doorway. My heart breaks a little when I can see a flash of recognition go through my mom’s face. She’s been in this room before.

“Momma.” I murmur, my voice cracking slightly.

My mom immediately holds out her arms to me and I climb into her lap like I used to as a little girl. I bury my face in the crook of her neck and take a few deep breaths.The smell of her hair calms me enough that I feel I can talk. “I’m so sorry, Momma. If I had done only enough tesserae for you I might not have been picked. It’s all my fault.”

My mom just squeezes me tighter, her voice taking on a stern but loving tone. “Sloane Danielle McLeaud. I never want to hear you say that again. You would’ve starved if you hadn’t signed up for those tesserae. You should never feel bad for taking care of yourself.”

I pull back from my mother so that I can see her face. “What are you gonna do? You might be able to scrape by on only your salary. You won’t be able to afford bread unless you start charging for tutoring sessions. I know you don’t like charging people to learn, but you need to be able to live. I’ve been able to save and dry some of the game I’ve caught, but even that will only last so long. The last thing we need is you losing your upper body strength because you’re not eating enough. Mitch agreed to look after you if I ever got reaped, but…” I trailed off with the realization that Mitch isn’t gonna be able to take care of her. My first tears of the day roll down my cheeks and my mom takes my face in her hands. She moves my head so that I’m looking into her eyes. “Sloane, honey, breathe. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. What I need you to do is stay focused. I want you to come home to me, but I don’t want you to lose yourself out there. Okay?” 

The weight of my mom’s words hit me like a brick. Sure, surviving is my ultimate goal. But is coming out of that arena worth it if I’m just a shell of myself? I nod before climbing out of my mom’s lap. “I love you, Momma.”

My mom gently traces a thumb over my cheek. “I love you too.” 

I wrap my arms around myself as my mom wheels herself out of the room. She gives me one last smile over her shoulder and I give her the most reassuring smile I can muster. The door shuts and I collapse into one of the plush chairs in the room. The realization that I am probably never going to see my mom again sucks the air from my lungs and I curl into the chair, hiding my face from the world.

I don’t move from the chair when the door opens again. I can hear a pair of footsteps enter and assume the Peacekeepers have come to take me to the train. Then a soft voice says my name and I pull my face out of the chair to see Mitch’s parents smiling at me. His mother smooths some of my hair out of my face and I unfurl my body, gratefully accepting her hug.

I glance between the two of them, steeling myself for what I have to do now. “You guys have already done so much for my mom and I after Dan died, I hate to ask for more help, but-”

“Yes.” Mrs. Maeson says, cutting me off.

I stare at them for a few heartbeats. “I… I didn’t even ask you anything yet.”

“You were going to ask us to watch out for your mom, weren’t you?” Mr. Maeson asks with a smile.

I nod, giving them a small smile. “Thank you.”

Mr. Maeson just shrugs and gives me the same crooked smile he shares with his son. “It’s the least we could do after you kept our boy in line all these years and after your Uncle Dan got me out of the collapse.”

I find the last bit of strength I have and give Mr. Maeson my most determined look. “I’ll keep him safe, I promise.”

For a second Mrs. Maeson looks like she’s going to protest, but she gives up at the last moment and instead pulls me into another hug. “I want you to promise to take care of yourself too.”

“Okay.” I murmur even though we both know I can’t promise anything.

The Maesons leave shortly after and I’m left to my own devices for the rest of our allotted hour. I spend some of it sitting, the rest of it I spend pacing in front of the couch running through every worst case scenario that I can think of. 

Both of us die horribly; Mitch dies and I survive, which causes the Maesons to hate me; Mitch dies and I survive, but I leave part of myself in the arena; Mitch survives, but forgets about my mother once he moves to the Victor’s Village; I accidentally get Mitch killed and make the Maesons hate me, then I die so there’s nobody to take care of my mother; Mitch and I are the last two standing so we have to pick which one comes home; and the worst, Mitch turns on me and I have to kill him so that I don’t die. That’s the one that I’m truly afraid of. I’d rather die before having to kill Mitch.

I stop pacing when Peacekeepers eventually bring me out of the room and shove me in the back of a car. 

The flashes of the cameras are near blinding as I step out of the car and onto the platform at the train station. I start to follow my Peacekeepers to the train but stop in my tracks when a second car pulls up. Happiness sails through my chest as Mitch steps out and before I can even think I’m dodging the Peacekeepers’ attempts to catch me.

“Mitch!” I call his name to get his attention before I literally throw myself into his arms. He stumbles slightly from the impact, but he quickly recovers and holds me until Peacekeepers rip us apart. In hindsight, running to Mitch was probably a bad idea because now the Peacekeepers have an iron grip on my biceps and are all but dragging me onto the train. They drop me at Elizabeth and Harlanne’s feet and I spit at the closest Peacekeeper in a stupid fit of rage. I’m sent sprawling onto my back as the back of their gauntleted hand connects with my face. I wince as the armor splits the skin on my lip and my teeth dig into the inside of my cheek.

“District 12 trash.” The Peacekeeper grumbles as they leave the train.

I spit again as the metallic tang of blood fills my mouth and I carefully wipe my lips, sighing as my fingers come away red with my blood.

Before I can even ask for a napkin Harlanne is in front of me, fretting over my face.

“This is not good!” She touches the fresh bruise forming on my cheek and I pull away with a wince. 

“Don’t you know not to touch bruises?” I grumble before spitting more blood.

Elizabeth hands me a cloth filled with ice. “It’s bold to backtalk a Peacekeeper and an escort back to back.”

I smirk as I hold the bundle to my face. “It’s bold to not applaud after a reaping.”

Elizabeth just shrugs, “As the only living victor I can afford to be a little bold.” A dark look flashes across her face for a second, “You don’t have that luxury right now.”

Harlanne nods eagerly. “Elizabeth is right. You’re lucky that the cameras didn’t catch you spitting on a Peacekeeper.”

“Why does it matter!” I yell, finally fed up with everything I’ve been through today. “So what if they saw me spit on a Peacekeeper! I got reaped on my  _ last _ reaping day!” My voice breaks as I point to Mitch who’s just been watching from the door. “I got reaped the same year as my best friend! He’s my  _ family _ …” I collapse onto the couch. “I should be able to spit on a Peacekeeper that throws me to the ground.”

Harlanne’s face takes on a hard edge that doesn’t seem natural for her. “It matters because tributes who are violent towards Peacekeepers don’t get sponsors and tributes who don’t get sponsors don’t win the games.”

I burrow deeper into the couch as shame burns under my skin. Harlanne’s right, I need to be smart about what I do now. My life isn’t my own anymore. “Whatever.” I get up off the couch and push past Harlanne as she tries to stop me from leaving the car. A small shake of Elizabeth’s head keeps her from continuing to try and keep me in the car with them. After a few minutes of wandering I’m able to find my room. The bed inside is bigger than both beds in my house combined and softer than anything I’ve ever touched. I stop in my tracks when I notice the full length mirror on the wall and step closer to it. This is the first time that I’ve truly seen my reflection. My uncle’s old mirror is so tarnished that my face is too blurry to make out fine details and don’t even get me started on how unreliable reflections on water are. But now that I’m actually seeing my face, I look exhausted. My eyes are red and puffy after a day's worth of both shed and held back tears. My bottom lip is indeed split and there’s a beautiful purple bruise forming around my lips and cheek. I poke at the split with my tongue and curse when I accidentally make it worse. I abandon the mirror and instead flop face first into the downy comforter covering the bed.

I’m not sure when I fell asleep but I’m less than gracefully woken up when Mitch takes a running leap into my bed, bouncing me straight out of it. My breath is forced from my lugs as I land flat on my back and I just lay there for a few seconds as I struggle to suck air back into my lungs. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mitch poke the top of his head out over the edge of the mattress.

“Ya good?”

“What… do you… fucking… think.” I sputter out between breaths.

The slight panic fades from his face as he starts cackling in laughter, eventually rolling onto his back.

“Dick.” I groan as I sit up.

He tips his head back over the edge of the mattress so that he’s looking at me upside down, still laughing. “But you love me.”

I give him my most disarming smile, “I do.” Before punching his very open and vulnerable throat, just hard enough to hurt and startle but not hard enough to do any lasting damage.

His laugh is cut short as it turns into a guttural and gurgling cough. He quickly rolls onto his stomach, hiding his throat from me. “Fuck me!” 

I jump up to my feet and start to walk out of my room, “Sorry buddy, you’re not my type.”

I jump slightly as one of the pillows sail by my head and slam into the wall in front of me with a dull thawp.

“You’re an ass!” He shouts at me as I leave the room.

“But you love me!” I call back over my shoulder and nearly run into Elizabeth, who’s standing quietly in the hallway. “How much did you see?” I ask, scratching the back of my neck as embarrassment makes my face heat up.

She gives me a soft smile, “All of it.” He eyes flick back to my room, a sudden sadness making them go dark. “You two really are like siblings, aren’t you?”

I shuffle my feet nervously. “Yeah.”

“Do you think that’s why your uncle tried so hard to save his dad?” 

I stumble a step back from Elizabeth and can’t do anything but stare at her for a few heartbeats. “What?”

“Your uncle, the man who is your father figure, gave his life to save that boy’s father when they were in a life or death situation. I have to wonder if that trait passes from generation to generation.” Elizabeth explains, a weird and slightly unsettling glint shining in her eyes.

“Obviously not” I scoff. “You know how much of a dick my grandfather was. It probably skips generations. Grandfather’s a dick, son and daughter are angels, granddaughter is a dick. Although we won’t be able to test that theory because the McLeaud line stops here.” My tone takes on a heavy level of sarcasm and I punctuate the end by pointing both of my thumbs at myself.

“We both know that’s not true.” Elizabeth says, pausing for a moment before continuing. “We both know that you’re just as caring as your mother and her siblings. You went to see Jason after he was reaped, even though he had been terrorizing you for most of your life.”

Despite myself, I suck in an alarmed breath, “How?”

“I trained him,” She murmurs quietly, sadness making her look older than she really is. She blinks and just like that, the hard mask is back over her face. “Sloane, you have a real chance to win this year’s game. I know what you’re capable of and it’s just as much as some careers out there.”

I clench my jaw at the thought. “I am going to do everything I can to make sure Mitch gets out of that arena. His life is worth more than mine. He has siblings to think of.”

“And you have your mother!” Elizabeth nearly snarls.

I jump back, startled by her sudden change in tone and she closes her eyes and clenches her fists, taking in a deep breath.

“Please.” She whispers, her voice cracking. She pinches the bridge of her nose as she lets out a long breath. “I promised Dan that if you were ever reaped, that I would do everything in my power to help you. And you are making it very hard already,” She pauses for a second, laughing softly. “and it’s only the first day.”

Guilt eats away at me again as I realize that she goes through this every year. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

Her small smile returns and she points back towards the main part of the train. “Dinners ready. Just be careful. Capitol food is rich.”

I nod my thanks as Elizabeth moves further down the hall to tell Mitch. “Thank you.” I suddenly blurt out.

I can hear Elizabeth stop in her tracks. “For what?”

“For helping my Aunt.” I murmur before moving into the next car.

The spread of food covering the glossy wooden table is breathtaking. Here I was thinking bread was a luxury, only to find the table covered in countless loaves and rolls, all made of different flours? Oats? I don’t even want to think about how you make bread different. Like that’s gonna help me not die in a few weeks. I plop down in the chair farthest from Harlanne and rip open a fist sized roll made of dark brown bread.

“You’re going to want to eat that with honey butter.” Harlanne cheerily says from her seat and points to a dish filled with what looks like normal butter.

I eye the butter and then I look her right in the eyes as I eat the bread without any butter.    
Harlanne rolls her eyes with a huff and slathers a herb laced butter onto a different kind of roll.

I look up as Mitch snatches my next roll out of my hands before sinking into the chair next to me. He takes a bite from the roll before spreading what looked like too much butter over the bread. “I hope you didn’t eat too much without me.”

I grab a new roll and eat it once again without any butter. “I would never dream of it.”

He smiled at me, chewed pieces of roll sticking out between his teeth.

“You’re disgusting!” I yell as I throw a napkin at his face.

He easily catches it and tucks it into his collar. “Thank you for the napkin, Miss McLeaud.”

Our banter fades off as the main course is brought in front of us and we stuff ourselves to the point of discomfort. After we’ve eaten everything we could’ve possibly dreamed of, Harlanne pushes away from the table, neatly patting her mouth with her napkin before daintily laying it over her plate. “Now that we’re all done eating, it’s time to watch the rebroadcast of the reapings. It’s always fun hearing the little anecdotes the announcers give.”

Elizabeth stands with a sigh. “As much as I hate watching them, they are important because it can give you an early idea of who you’re going up against and who you might want as allies.”

Mitch and I look at eachother and I can see my own fear and uncertainty reflected in his eyes. “Alright. Whatever you say is best.” I murmur and can’t help but see the surprise on everyone’s faces. I just shrug. “What’s the point of fighting with you guys if there’s already 22 people out there that want to kill me.” 

We all go to a different compartment to watch the recap of the other reapings. There’s a few tributes that stand out to me, the first being the boy from 1. He’s absolutely massive, well over 6 feet tall with more muscles than I’ve ever seen on a single person. And by the worried crease in Elizabeth’s brow, she’s thinking along the same lines as me. The next is the boy from 2, Shawn Baxter. The announcers say that this is the first year in 2 when a boy hasn’t tried to volunteer after the reaping, it’s because Shawn is the President’s son and even though the Careers are desperate to go to the games, they wouldn’t dare steal the honor from him. The next person who catches my attention is the girl from 4. She’s reserved, even for a tribute and I can’t help but feel my heart ache for her. Then there’s the girl from 11, Annabeth Martinez. She’s breathtakingly beautiful. The bright afternoon sun is causing her tawny skin to glow and even though her world should be ending, she stays composed, giving the cameras a dazzling smile. I stand from my seat and walk closer to the screen as they zoom in on her face during the anthem. 

I barely register Mitch walk up next to me, “Sloane.” He whispers, studying my face. “I know that look. It’s the same look you’ve given every single girl you’ve dated. You can’t do this.”

I chuckle nervously, “It’s a little late, buddy.” I turn around to Elizabeth and Harlanne, “I need her as an ally, because I cannot kill her.”

Elizabeth rubs her forehead with a sigh. “Goddamnit.” 

I sit back down when the scene switches to our reaping. The announcers start out by talking about my aunt and I can see Elizabeth stiffen. The thing I wasn’t prepared for was them to actually play the clip of her reaping.

My eyes are glued to the screen as my mother starts to slowly wheel herself to the stage. The smug look on my grandfather’s face is near revolting. My aunt’s scream for my mom shatters my heart and I can feel warm tears spring from my eyes.

Harlanne puts a soft hand on my knee as I wipe the tears away from my eyes. 

“That was the first time I’ve ever heard my aunt’s voice.” I murmur, my voice cracking. 

Harlanne moves to shut the broadcast off, but I stop her. My desperation to actually see what happened is making my heart thunder in my chest. “Please don’t. If I don’t see this now, I might never get to again.” Harlanne relaxes and instead puts a comforting arm around my shoulders. 

I watch, powerless as my aunt shoves through the crowd, screaming my mom’s name. My grandfather is smug until my aunt volunteers and then his expression shifts to one of horror as his precious Melissa climbs the stage instead.

One of the announcers makes a quick comment about my grandfather rigging the reaping and then jokes about his ghost putting my slip into Harlanne’s hand.

Harlanne scoffs lightly and tries to assure me that the reaping today was fair.

The broadcast switches again, it’s now showing our reaping. They zoom in on my face and the announcers comment on how I almost look bored and I hold back a quip about how I was bored, because one of the people who was boring me is currently sharing a couch with me. 

The announcers focus on how Mitch and I hold hands during the end of the ceremony and switch to the recording of me throwing myself into Mitch’s arms at the train station. They throw out countless theories on our relationship, but settle on the hope of some kind of star-crossed romance.

I turn my attention away from the screen when Mitch starts laughing. “They’re in for a rude awakening when they discover I’m not the tribute you have the hots for.”

An uncharacteristic blush warms my face and I sock Mitch in the arm. “Shut up.” He smiles back at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and I suddenly don’t want to be near any of them anymore. Is he thinking about how we’re gonna lose each other soon? Because that’s all I can think about.

I mumble something about being tired and wander back to my room. I end up changing into a set of sky blue silk pajamas and sink back into that bed for the second time.

My aunt’s scream is playing on loop in my head, in tandem with the clip from Annabeth’s reaping. 

I’m such an idiot.

Nothing is going to happen. We’re being put into the same arena to kill each other. This isn’t some extravagant matchmaking program.

I mean, it kinda is because people do team up. But none of the teams last. People die and people stab each other in the back.    
If I was to land Annabeth as an ally, who’s to say she wouldn’t slit my throat the first time I fall asleep. Who’s to say I wouldn’t slit her throat if she threatened Mitch.

Who am I kidding. I wouldn’t be able to kill her.

This is bad. Really bad.

After a few hours of tossing and turning I eventually fall asleep and have a night of fitful sleep broken up by nightmares of dying in the arena. After my third nightmare I give up on sleep and wander back into the main car. I plop onto the couch and watch the sun rise. I can’t help but smile as a welcome sense of calm washes over me as the warm colors of dawn spread across the sky. 

The welcome is quickly driven away at the thought of my mother, who is waking up to the same sunrise, but in their empty house. I close my eyes and burrow into the couch, clinging onto the mental image of my mother’s face and the memory of how her homemade lavender sage soap smelled. This time when I drift off to sleep, I’m greeted by a welcome nothingness.

That beautiful peace is broken as Elizabeth carefully shakes me awake. I stare at her for a few seconds, confused as to why she’s in my house, until everything comes rushing back and I just bury my face back into the couch. “Wake me up when we make it to the Capitol.”

“I did.” She responds, deadpan.

I scramble off the couch and dash over to the window Mitch is currently looking out. It’s a sprawling city surrounded by the biggest body of water I’ve ever seen. The buildings are all made out of metal and glass and shine in the early morning sunlight. It’s both the most amazing thing I’ve seen and the ugliest thing I’ve seen. I already hate it.

I glance over my shoulder as Elizabeth walks up behind us.

“Welcome to the Capitol, kids.”


End file.
